


Misfit Snippets

by astraldrake



Series: Destiny Oc stuff [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Guardian Uldren, his name is dove now, oc stuff - Freeform, please don’t kill me i’m new here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraldrake/pseuds/astraldrake
Summary: A few small shards of story regarding The Misfits, aka Fireteam ‘would be shot on sight if they went anywhere near the tower’. Each chapter is either a series of short blurbs, with the occasional longer story thrown in.
Series: Destiny Oc stuff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703521
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted these lil bits on Tumblr, maybe I’ll write more eventually? Idk, enjoy them if you will.

They’re an odd group to be certain, a fallen captain, a dead prince, an ex shadow, and a wayward hunter. But the mark they bear is the same, and the bond they share is undeniable. In the end, Darren supposes that’s what matters.

* * *

Darren tells Penumbra he’s been getting odd letters from a strange man. He tells her that they speak of things he can’t wrap his head around. When she asks to see them, he obliges. After reading them, she regrets shredding her Thorn, she figures she could have gotten at least one last good use out of the damnable hunk of scrap. The self identified paragon tempting others to the dark? He would have been her final kill.

* * *

Dove keeps his his vocal distorter active so often he barely recognises his own voice without it. It’s a safety measure, keeping strangers from trying to kill him. As necessary as it is, he wonders if he’ll forget his face too. It would be better if everyone did.

* * *

Penumbra was never the most fervent or loyal. In retrospect, she’s beginning to realise that may have been why she survived where others were burned to ash. Like Icarus, she muses, they flew too close to the sun, and the man with the golden gun shot them down. Easy pickings, she surmised.

* * *

When Ahkris gasps awake for the first time, her ghost is in a panic. The tiny creature is spinning and speaking rapid fire in a tongue she does not recognise. She shakes her head, drawing herself to her feet as the tiny creature recoils, continuing its tirade. Ahkris extends her arms hoping to placate the tiny machine, and she can feel its panic even if she does not understand its words. The machine seems to take a moment to gather itself, before it attempts to speak.  
“Hello?” Its voice is shaky, uneven.


	2. Devils Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of background O14, as well as some speaker!Darren in this one. Started writing this around when the quest dropped and only got around to finishing it now. Fun fact, Varda and Rose-3 are my in game warlock and titan!

“Get off this line Osiris.” Saint grumbled, as Varda did her best to stifle her amusement.

“Make me.” The warlock retorted, as Dove shot Darren a confused look. Darren, to his credit hadn’t cracked yet, but the conversation was making it hard to focus. They were searching Twilight Gap for downed redjacks, or they had been until whatever this was had interrupted it.

“Are they,” Dove had switched to a short range private channel. “uh, y’know, a thing?” Saint’s response cuts off Varda’s attempt to answer.

“You would not survive it.”

Darren had to mute himself for a few seconds to stifle his laughter, while Varda had her fist pressed against her helmet where her mouth would have been, and Dove continued to look bewildered.

“I really hope that he wasn’t implying what I think he was.” Varda chuckled.

“Thanks for that image Varda, exactly what I needed to not sleep for a week.” Darren groaned, Dove looked at the two for an answer, and the warlock made a gesture in response. Darren doubled over, roaring with laughter, and Dove made an odd choking sound.

“Varda, no. That’s awful and you should feel bad.” Darren tugged his hood back over his head, and crossed the room over to another downed frame. The warlock shrugged as the other two returned to the conversation.

“Our friends seem oddly quiet, don’t they Saint?” Osiris breaks the quiet on the line.

“Looking for these things is tough, the fallen didn’t exactly drop ‘em in easy spots.” Darren responds gruffly, although the hunter sounds as hardened as a newborn kitten.

“Yeah, not much time for chatter when you’re actually doing your job.” Varda snipes, gliding to rest atop a flight of stairs.

“What do you mean? We’re doing very important work here, Varda.” Saint scoffs with mock pride.

“Varda’s right, if you wanna flirt do it somewhere else, the three of us are busy.” Dove responds, eliciting indignant sputtering from Saint, and raucous laughter from his teammates.

“Dove you-you did not just say that.” Darren fought his laughter as he spoke.

“I’m pretty sure he did.” Varda crouches next to another redjack as it dissipates. Darren, still wheezing, hasn’t noticed the total silence from the other end. Dove tags the last of the redjacks as the sun begins to set.

“Welp, that’s all of em.” Darren makes a show of dusting off his hands as Varda sits atop a rusted shipping crate. After a few moments of odd quiet the three guardians look at eachother. Something is wrong.

“Saint? Osiris? Anyone?” Dove, nervously calls, the three are visibly concerned.

“Maybe they’re not responding ‘cause they’re comin’ here to kick our asses.” Darren jokes.

“Don’t think so, line’s still open.” Varda points out. “We might as well head back to the tower, unless you two want to watch the sunset.” Gesturing to the horizon, which at this point has turned a brilliant orange.

“Nah, let’s get goin’ I’m freezing my ass off.” Darren jokes, kicking halfheartedly at a pile of snow.

“I’m with Darren, there’s nothing else for us here.” Dove nods as Varda’s ghost Merry informs them he’s bringing the ship around. Not moments later, the butterflylike shape of the Amnestia-S2 breaks the clouds, dropping to hover above the arena.

Most of the ride is silent, with Varda at the controls while Dove and Darren hang out in the back. By the time they get to the tower it’s night, and most of tower’s mortal personnel have gone home. The few guardians roaming the area don’t look their way, engrossed in other activities. Aside from the annex, Darren isn’t a big fan of the tower, although the lack of crowds mean Dove is less jumpy than usual. The pair follow Varda to the hangar.Passing a tired Holliday with a wave, Varda stops dead in her tracks at the sight of the hangar beyond. Darren, nervously watching for little blue lights barely manages not to crash into her, while Dove, who is far more focused simply stops without incident.

“It’s gone.” Varda announces, staring into the unusually dark hangar.

“What’s gone?” Darren asks, still partially occupied with scanning his surroundings.

“The Grey Pigeon, duh.” Dove responds, elbowing his teammate. “ And stop looking all paranoid, they’re not actually following you.”

“What’s following him?” Varda asks, concerned.

“It’s nothin-“ Darren begins.

“Darren thinks that the ghosts in the tower are following him around.” Dove cuts him off, tone serious.

“Odd, haven’t heard of that happening before.” Varda shrugs before dragging them back to more pressing matter. “But presently I think we should be more worried about the fact Saint’s ship is missing, and so is he.” She turns and crosses further into the hangar.

“Looks like the carpet’s still here, so it’s not like he just up and vanished.” Dove notes, scuffing his armoured foot on the floor.

“You don't think he...” Darren says slowly, studying the flattened soccer ball.

“Vanished due to timeline stuff? No. That’s not what this is. Dove just said as much.” Varda sits on the stairs, resting her head on her hand, clearly exhausted from the day’s exertion.

“I was gonna say visit his friend.” Darren leans on a nearby support beam, feeling his eyes grow heavy.

“Perhaps we inspired them.” Varda shrugs, before yawning.

“In what way would we have done that? All we did was make a few dumb jokes.” Dove drops into a sitting position next to Darren.

“Regardless, it looks like we’re waiting until he gets back.” Varda frowns, staring at her boots. Snores start up and she looks over to find Dove asleep on the floor. Darren laughs quietly at his teammate, before tossing his cape over Dove like a blanket. He shrugs at Varda.

“If you want to take a rest I’ll stand guard. I don’t have anything else to do tonight” She offers, and Darren shakes his head, an odd look of fear on his face.

“Can’t sleep here, don’t wanna cause a scene when I start screamin’.” Darren frowns, as if he hadn’t meant to tell Varda that. She decides not to ask, the look on his face seems answer enough.

Darren keeps himself busy, carves messily at a stick he found with one of his knives, reads whatever Corvid can find, as well as the slightly waterlogged book he keeps in one of his pockets. Occasionally he turns to Varda, who appears busily flicking through screens of information. Rose, Varda’s girlfriend, shows up at one point. She smiles fondly at the pair of Misfits before pulling Varda into a kiss. Darren turns back to his book, unaware of the unusual number of ghosts that are now hovering near him.

The next morning, Dove jerks awake to the sound of engines. Darren, Varda, and Rose are playing cards as a familiar ship returns to it’s rightful place. Rose begins packing up the cards as Darren stands, rolling his shoulders.

“Finally!” Varda grumbles, rubbing at her face. She is no stranger to long nights, most of them aren’t. The Grey Pigeon’s landing ramp folds out, and the great thundering of armoured boots follows. Saint tromps down the ramp, quickly noticing the exhausted huddle in the corner.

“You’re late.” Varda calls. “We’ve been here all night.”

“Ah, my apologies. I went to speak with our mutual friend, and the conversation dragged on longer than I realised.” The titan shrugs, studying the rest of the group. “I am curious to see what you’ve found.” Darren stumbles forward, handing over the fragments, nodding tiredly.

“So what is it?” Dove asks, the only one in the group running on any kind of sleep.

“A sidearm, the devils ruin.” After a few moments, Saint hands over the weapon. It’s a rather innocuous looking gun, considering it’s name. Dove takes it from his hand, before tossing it to Varda.

“Thanks, now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pass out for a few hours.” The warlock waves, padding out of the hangar.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t collapse on the stairs.” Rose dips her head at the misfits, then follows her girlfriend out of the hangar, painted armour glittering in the morning sun.

“So, I guess I’ll see you later.” Dove shrugs, giving Saint a loose salute.

“Not so fast, warlock.” The titan puts an armoured hand on Dove’s shoulder. Dove does his best not to look scared.

“What is it?” He asks, trying desperately to sound casual.

“You should be more careful with your words in the future, Osiris was half ready to track you down and turn you to ash.” The vertical strip of light on his helmet bores into Dove, somehow more intimidating than a pair of eyes. The warlock shudders a bit.

“Uh, sorry.” Dove reaches for his sidearm, ready to fight or flee if things go south. It’s likely that motion that tips Saint off to his fear because the titan backs off a bit.

“I don’t mean to scare you, just to warn you against doing it again. As funny as I may find your observant nature, Osiris does not appreciate such humour, especially when it hits so close to home.” Dove blinks, surprised.

“So you’re-“

“Yes, yes, although I’d appreciate if you don’t tell anyone just yet.” Saint interrupts, hands up as if to contain the sound.

“I won’t say a word.” Dove grins behind his visor, the feeling of someone trusting him is exhilarating. Besides, he keeps plenty of secrets as is, one more is nothing to him.

The ride back to the ketch is blessedly quiet. Darren sleeps in one of the two makeshift hammocks hanging from the ceiling of the ship, while Corvid mans the controls. Dove is left to his thoughts, which are whirling.


End file.
